


Heat Lottery

by booktick



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Hawkeye Pierce, Established Relationship, F/M, Falling In Love, Letters, Love Letters, M/M, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Pre-Poly, no real specific episode for this one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-10-02 17:43:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17268572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/booktick/pseuds/booktick
Summary: A letter, another and more from Peg, BJ and Hawkeye.





	1. Brass State [Hawkeye]

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own none of this franchise.

* * *

If he had a nickel for every time that Charles' snores had woke him up, he'd be rich enough to gain a membership at one of Charles' fancy clubs back at Boston. Those real nice ones too, with the noses in the air and an ass shiny enough that you kiss it. The ones with jacket and tie but no Friday casual? Those sort of clubs. He was sure Charles' family must have been the founding members of at least half of those. The Winchester fort must have been a marvel to behold in Boston.

Not that _he_ , _Hawkeye Pierce_ , from little ol' Crabapple Cove, Maine, would be eligible for any of those clubs, nonethless a Winchester club, regardless of how much money he had. Oh, no, Charles had, on grand occasion, let him know and BJ both know how unfit and common they were. The very idea Hawkeye would even try to join a club like that would be considered an insult supposedly by the up and coming Charles Emerson Winchester III. Yet, there he was, eyes on the ceiling of the tent and wide awake all thanks to his uppity companion's snoring.

He turned his head, towards Beej, to see if his right hand was awake. His brows furrowed when he saw BJ was, in fact, still asleep. What gave him the right to be asleep during this? He turned his body, now on his side but still on his cot. His hands pulled the blanket over his shoulder, letting his hands remain cupped under his chin.

His eyes fixed on BJ, whom was still on his back and happily asleep if he could mention it just once more to add insult to injury. His heart was absolutely wounded, it would never repair from such betrayal. It wasn't like he hadn't been on the floor for surgery earlier. He had just the same lack of sleep as BJ did, as Charles did. Yet, it was he, Hawkeye Pierce from Maine, that was restless. If he could call Sidney to complain, he would. He just didn't really want to hear a lecture at this time of night. Besides, Sidney was probably busy doing Sidney things.

What a life it must be, to be Sidney Freedman.

Eventually, he turned onto his back once more. His hands pulled up to rest on his chest, the blanket sliding down to his waist. He let his eyes return to the ceiling of the tent, at the patchwork that Klinger had attempted a week before. It didn't really keep the rain out, that was what the pots on the floor were for. He hoped Colonel Potter wasn't catching onto why the cook wasn't making soup as often at the 4077th. Good ol' Klinger though. The man did know how to use a needle and thread, it was almost as good as his own work with thread. Klinger would be one hell of a doctor, skirt and all. He let himself smile at the thought, even if he was still annoyed at the Winchester across the room.

"Can you believe it, Peg?" Hawkeye whispered, "Your husband is sound asleep and I'm up and don't know what to do with myself."

He didn't do this often. He wasn't even sure if BJ was aware he did it. Knowing his best friend, Beej would have written to his wife about. If anyone was going to tell Peg Hunnicutt that Hawkeye Pierce talked to her in the middle of the night, all the way in Korea, well, it was gonna be him. Maybe a letter would raise less eyebrows, not that any eyebrows would be waving since nobody knew--he hoped. It would steady himself though. It'd keep his hands busy. He groaned and turned back onto his side with a ' _hmph_ ' and a grunt. His hand darted under his cot, into the darkness, to pull out the writing pad he found--sorry, Major--in Margaret's tent. She did say to borrow whatever he needed last time they spoke. Paper was paper, what would she care? Hell, if he told her it was for a letter, she might even give him one of those Houlihan smiles. How he treasured those.

"Alright, Peg, fine." If he was actually speaking to her, face to face, man to woman, doctor to miracle worker, class clown to life line, he would have called her Mrs. Hunnicutt. He wasn't rude...usually.

Hawkeye patted at his shirt, realizing he wasn't wearing his jacket. No pencil. Damn it. He sat up, another groan leaving him, and looked around. The blanket fell to the floor, into the half filled pot of water. He would need a new one for the night. He stepped over both items anyway, holding the writing pad in hand. Pencil, pencil...if he was a pencil where would he be? He stepped as quietly as his feet could do, tip toeing around Charles' fallen pillow and forgotten stack of books.

He leaned over the, still snoring mind you, Charles Winchester. His nose wrinkled at the sound, rubbing at his ear before he reached towards the make shift shelves near by. As he leaned in further, he could feel dear, sweet, _loud_ Charles' breath upon his cheek. Had the man never heard of nose breathing? Hawkeye resisted the urge to clamp his mouth down on the man's mouth and let his fingers, instead, scurry along the shelves. It was more books from home, a few coins, and--a pencil!

"Bless you, Charles." He murmured.

It would see the good doctor was worthy of the Swamp after all. He reached down, and as gently as he could, patted Charles' cheek. Charles groaned and turned on his cot, back facing Hawkeye. The cot shifted some at the sudden movement, even had Hawkeye almost lose his balance. He blew his cheeks out at maximum capacity, eyes widening some before he rocked back on his heels and regained his proper footing. That would have been embarrassing. To fall on top of Winchester, and Charles not catching him? He really felt bad for Charles in this circumstance. What a shame. To catch a Pierce was an award in its' own right. He let the air leave his mouth, his cheeks falling back into it's usual form, well, almost its' usual form. One would have to ask BJ what that meant he supposed.

Hawkeye clutched the writing pad and pencil to his chest, turning away from Charles and making his way back to his own cot. The dripdripdrip from above only let him know rain was in the air. He looked up at the ceiling as he sat back down on the cot, pad in his lap and pencil in hand. The patchwork dripped some more, water hitting a pot on the floor by mere luck. Why did it have to be his cot that a leak would hover over? Otherwise, BJ would be bunking for two tonight.

The patch wasn't exactly letting water pour in, but as the louder the rain grew outside, from steady drops to something heavier, he still felt the concern low in his gut. Despite Klinger's assistance, the water was coming through the patchwork above, though not as fast. It would do its' duty, as they all apparently had to, as long as it could. He would have to go to Potter in the morning, see if they could do anything better. The Swamp may be a swamp but it was still his baby. Their baby. Every baby needed some care here and there, a little love, and compassion and understanding..Erin Hunnicutt would have understood. After all, she was an actual baby.

Hawkeye put pencil to paper, slouched and wrote like a vulture pretending to be human:

_'Dear Mrs. Hunnicutt,_

_This is Hawkeye Pierce from Crabapple Cove, Maine and currently, reluctantly, the 4077th. I wrote to you a few times on occasion though I never sent any of the letters and notes. Okay, maybe I sent one or two. But_ _I'm sure you would gladly inform your husband of this if I had sent the rest of the letter and would if I send this one as well. Your husband is asleep at the moment so forgive his lack of hello in the following words I write here. Just like BJ to sleep through a war, huh? Just kidding, the man's practically a saint.'_

Hawkeye lifted his head, never losing his current strand of posture. BJ had turned in his cot again, body half leaning over it and if he wasn't careful would slide right out. It wasn't safe to just let your arm dangle off the cot like that, the monsters from under it would gobble it up. His dad had told him that one. His dad also let him crawl into his bed so the monsters couldn't get him.

But Dad wasn't here. Dad was in Crabapple Cove, Maine. And Hawkeye was here...

He let his head lower again, slowly this time just in case Beej  _did_ fall off the cot. He would want to be there to help him back up. His thumb rubbed at his pencil's eraser before he began to write again, gripping it tight. His wrist would ache if he wrote for too long. Enough report handling had already let him know such a feat was not out of reach. 

' _I don't know why I felt the urge to write to you. Maybe it's because you and Erin are all he talks about. I've heard enough about you to be in love with you too. Was that too much? I tend to overshare. I hear it's one of my bad habits. It was a joke. I know you love Beej. I'm glad you do. Someone has to.'_

He licked his lips, only to feel how dry his mouth truly was. A dull ache formed low in his gut, refused to budge, no matter how tried to shift his weight on the cot. He ran fingers through his hair and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. The slobber went from hand to thigh as he tried to wipe it off. He was already sweating again, even with the cold of the rain seeping into the Swamp. 

It wasn't like it was a total lie. Sure, he had heard enough about Peg Hunnicutt to know the woman was a near angel. If she didn't already have a halo and wings, he'd be surprised out of his shorts. She and Erin, the way BJ talked about this...it just sounded so nice. So warm. Like families should be. He loved Dad, and Dad loved him but...but it wasn't like BJ's. That wasn't a slight against his Dad either. Dad did everything he could to make home feel like home. But that whole feeling? That one he saw BJ and Peg have almost had him jealous. Hawkeye hadn't felt that since before Mom died. He missed it on more than one occasion, try several in fact.

Mom would have loved BJ. 

He scratched at his jaw as he tapped the pencil against the writing pad. His eyes trailing over the words he'd written so far. He would probably not finish it tonight, or maybe never he wasn't so sure anymore. He could at least leave it with something better than ' _Hey, by the way, I got the hots for you AND your husband, Mrs. Hunnicutt_.'

Hawkeye hunched over again, made his shoulders lift to his ears and scribbled a few quick lines without much further thought to them:

' _I want you to know BJ has been a good friend and good ally here at the 4077th. I'm better to have known him, to be in his company and to breathe the air he breathes. If I could get more cheesy here, I'd say I'm glad I was able to meet him because that means I got to hear about you and Erin. Thanks for reading if you got this far in this mess of a letter, and thanks for being the Peggiest Peg to Peg. Give Erin Hunnicutt much love from Uncle Hawk? And...just...thanks._

_Sincerely yours, forever and always,_

_Hawkeye Pierce._ '


	2. The Cupid Tree [BJ Hunnicutt]

* * *

It's either the rain that wakes him or Charles' snoring. He wasn't sure he preferred to believe nor which was worst. As he shifted on his cot, shirt riding up and a slap of cold hits his bare belly, he groans. His limbs are stiff as he stretches the best he can on the cot. His ribs ache, all of him aches, it must be the cold. Weather like this never agreed with him. The cold was a bitter enemy and needed to be stopped. With a vengeance, the cold air came at him and his toes. He frowned, kicking at his blanket to try and hide his toes. No matter how he moved, it wasn't enough. He probably wasn't going to be falling asleep anytime soon.

BJ doesn't know how he slept so long during both. But as his lids lift, the darkness meets his eyes and he's glad there isn't any sign of incoming wounded. For a breath, he feels the guilt wash over him. It wasn't like he blamed the wounded that came through the 4077th. None of them  _wanted_ this, to be half dead and holding in their entrails while doctors smothered them in an attempt to save their lives. It had been plenty and at rapid succession. BJ had seen enough here to last a lifetime. 

With all the rainstorms lately, mud had been thick and had him lose all love for it. He had trudged his way into the Swamp hours ago, tossed his boots aside and fell face down on the cot. He wasn't sure what time it was exactly but from the lack of Sun piercing his eyes, it must have been before dawn. He wondered if everyone else at camp was asleep except him. If there was any justice left in the world, Sidney Freedman would visit the camp and lighten the current mood. Maybe it wouldn't rain as much after that. The man was like light at the end of a tunnel.

But that was daydreaming, night dreaming, something like that, and this was reality. It was pouring rain and it was night and he was beyond worn. His thread was thinning by the breath to be honest. He would try not to mention it to Hawkeye, didn't want him to worry. Was Hawkeye in the Swamp? He could only really hear the rain and Charles' snoring inside the tent.

He turned his head away from the direction the next thunderclap sounded off. Damn thing sounded almost like a shelling. BJ pressed the butt of his palms against his eyes and rubbed. The sleep still clung to him like a blanket as he gradually sat up. His lips smacked together a few times, tongue trying to wet a dry mouth. It takes a few times to swallow without hurting. He scratched at his neck, nails uneven from how much he picked at them lately. It was just another bad habit to put on the list. Hawk had overthinking and he had nail biting. What a pair they made.

Speaking of Hawkeye, he looked over to his favorite cot-mate. Dark hair and half a nose is all he can manage to see as he leaned forward and squints. Hawkeye was belly down on the cot, face partially turned towards a pillow and, his eyes fell to the floor,.a...wet blanket in a pot of water. Ah, jeez, did Hawkeye lose another blanket to the rain?

BJ lifted his head, to the ceiling of the room where Klinger's patchwork remained. It's still hard to tell since Hawk had turned his lantern off. He just hoped the rain didn't pour in like last time. It had taken a hell of a time to dry everything and Charles wouldn't let either of them hear the end of it. The patchwork had been but a bandaid really. Charles didn't care for _that_ either. Had shifted all blame onto his and Hawk's shoulders. As if they somehow could control the weather or Klinger's insistent need to sew up their Swamp's injuries.

He shoved his blanket aside as he swung his legs over the cot. His hand grasped a hold of the blanket as soon as he stood. It dragged along the floor as he tried to find his footing. He was still half asleep after all. As he stumbled towards Hawk, his big toe ran right into one of the pots. BJ clenched his teeth and held his cry in deep. It clawed at his throat to be released but he swallowed hard. He refused to wake Hawk up just because he stubbed his toe.

Hawk continued with his soft breathing, arms tucked under his chest. His best friend looked like he was in paradise sleeping like that. It lasted only a moment, as BJ leaned in he could see Hawkeye better, see the way Hawk's eyebrow furrowed. He sighed, kneeling down beside the pots on the floor and placed his blanket over the sleeping man. His fingers went to Hawkeye's cheek and his thumb stroked gently. He remained knelt for a few more breaths, until Hawk calmed again. He pats the man's back just as gently as stands up slowly, his legs thank him for the choice of action.

He sighed again, a hand on his own back. The cots were not a welcomed embrace at the 4077th. Maybe he needed to slip his pillow under him or sleep on his side more--he wasn't sure really. He took barely a glance at Charles before he blinked, drops of water from Klinger's patchwork above wet his eyelashes. He rubbed his palms against his eyes and, as quickly as someone could tip toeing, made his way back to his own cot. Gingerly, he lowered himself back down and folded his arms. It'd be difficult to fall back asleep in this cold, nonetheless with Charles' snoring over there.

His eyes shut for what seemed like forever. But as those lids lifted and the darkness hadn't changed, he realized it hadn't been forever. He was still in Korea, still at the 4077th. That meant no Peg, no Erin, and no...peace. It terrified BJ though...what if the war ended in Korea and followed him home? What if he went back to Peg and Erin and he realized there wasn't any peace left for him? He didn't want to think about it. But on late nights like these, rain like this, it was hard  _not_ think about it.  _Damn it._

He needed to write to Peg.

BJ took a deep breath and nearly lunged himself off his cot as he reached for under the cot. His fingers scrambled some, tapping at lost books and forgotten photographs he meant to send to Peg, which he would...eventually. And so what if a lot of them were of Hawk, and Hawk and him...it was important to him that Peg actually  _saw this s_ arcastic class clown from Crabapple Cove, Maine. Maybe Peg would fall for those eyes the same way he did? Peg had already fallen head over heels just by his descriptions of Hawk. He was sure of it.

His hand slapped down on his desired items: the writing pad. As he fumbled to grasp it, he found item number two:  _the pencil_. Fantastic. He was off to a good start. He tugged them both out from under his cot. All he had to do now was find some...

He looked over his shoulder and saw Hawk's lantern. This time he didn't tip toe out of bed, with both items held to his chest by an arm, he moved over to the lantern via his knees. His poor knees. They'd hurt in a few hours. Hawk turned in his cot, onto his back just as he reached the lantern. His movement came to a standstill, all motor functions slowed, and his hand was stuck in the air, hovering over the lantern. His eyes found Hawk's face, watching...waiting.

Hawk didn't move towards him or say anything. He shut his own eyes again, took a deep breath as he opened them a moment later. The lantern is heavier than he remembered. Where did Hawkeye get this thing? He wrinkled his nose at his best friend before he carried it back to his cot. The lantern is on his footlocker, a soft clatter as he placed it there. The light is set as dim as he can get it while still being able to see his own hand. He sits instead, shoulders at his ears and body leaned forward. The pencil bites into his flesh by how hard he holds it.

He begins his letter like he does most letters to Peg:

' _Dear Sweetheart,_

_How are you doing? It's been raining here at the 4077th. Absolutely pouring, thunder and all. Hawkeye says it means Odin is on vacation and Thor is running amok. You remember Hawkeye, honey? Dark hair, big eyes and mouth to boot? He's been a real lifesaver these last few months, giving me his jacket when mine was practically destroyed by the latest case of Klinger. No fault to Klinger. The guy likes his clothes.'_

He paused again in his movements. He couldn't even go a few sentences without mentioning Hawk. He blinked, eyes falling on the name. His thumb brushed over it, careful not to smudge the writing. He's smiling but his breath was so damn shaky. He didn't even realize it until now. What was it about writing to Peg about Hawkeye that made him like this? He wanted Peg to see Hawk how he saw Hawk...that's all. He knew he couldn't force Peg to do anything she didn't want to and it was clear already Peg liked him. BJ shook his head, and tried to keep his hand steady as he wrote.

' _Is Erin doing alright? You know I got the last letter with the pictures. She's getting so big, Peg. I'm...I'm sorry I'm not there to see it. When I get home, we'll have to go to the park and take family pictures. Enough to fill an entire house. You'd like that, wouldn't you? I have photos here at the 4077th. I'll put some in this letter for you. Most of them are just me and Hawk. But you said you like a man in uniform? Now you'll have twice the fun in the same picture._ '

He looked up as he heard a groan from across the room. Hawk had placed his arm over his eyes, a leg dangling off the cot but foot not quite touching the floor. That was an easy way to get eaten up by monsters. Surely Hawk was aware of that. He had heard Hawkeye's father had told Hawk that. He didn't want Erin to be scared like that. He would tell her there was only her toys and stuffed animals under there. But still. Hawk should be careful of the monsters under the cot. He'd have to remind him later.

They might have to share a cot again just in case. 

He looked back at his writing pad, needed a good way to end this letter. He wanted to make sure every letter he sent Peg was something she could hold close to her heart. Even if it was just a letter about finances or the house or...other unmentioned things that even _Hawkeye Pierce_ would have blushed over. The thoughts made him smile more, a tickle in his chest crawled down to his gut and remained there as he wrote.

' _Sweetheart, it's late right now so I'll start on my next letter after breakfast. Charles is snoring louder than this rainstorm. Luckily Hawkeye has the decency to sleep in peace. Just like Hawkeye to sleep through a war. That was a joke, honey. Promise. Hawkeye is practically a saint at the 4077th. Did you know he spent all night with one of the boys that came through here last week? No sleep, sat up and stayed to make sure the kid didn't feel alone. Hawk's good people, Peggy. I don't really know what I would have done here without him._

_Give Erin my love and kisses and hugs. Daddy loves her with all his heart. And I love you, Peg. I miss you. See you soon, okay, honey?_

_Love, forever and always,_

_B. J.'_


	3. Phantom Lovers [Hawkeye]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: My tenses are all over the place in this chapter but at least Hawkeye is a peach.

* * *

Without much thought or care, "Mail call!" was shouted into the Swamp.

Hawkeye had been half asleep, drifting away further and further into a slumbering state, when Klinger came breathing through. He barely had time to prepare himself when he felt a stack of envelopes fall on his stomach. His eyes shot open, with a frown and a hiss he sat up soon after, a hand at the envelopes so they wouldn't fall. He took one look at Klinger, whom was clad in a feather boa and tweed, a mail bag's strap over one shoulder. Mail bag--interesting accessory. Oh, it was mail call, right. And, ah, yes, he remembered the letters that had been viciously tossed at him. Hawkeye shook his fist at Klinger before looking down at the stack.

Klinger leaned over, tapping the pile of letters a few times. "Dr. Hunnicutt has a letter in there too. Make sure he gets it?" 

"Klinger, don't you think you should give it to him yourself?" Hawkeye glanced up at him, "After all, I'm sticky fingered."

The Tweed Fiend pulled away from Hawkeye then, "As much as I would love to banter with you," Klinger turned on his heel "Dr. Winchester requires my expertise."

"Charles wants  _your_ expertise?" Now _that_ was hard to believe.

Klinger flung a hanging part of his feather bow over his shoulder, "I'll have you know I was the best person to get advice from in Toledo." And out he went, door slapping shut behind him. 

"Of course," Hawkeye murmured, looking back at the letters, "You were their eighth wonder of the world." 

Letters, letters, letters. He started to shuffle through them. A letter from Dad, Peg Hunnicutt--must be Beej's, a letter from Peg-...another letter from Peg Hunnicutt? He reshuffled the envelopes and placed his father's letter aside. In his hands were two Peg Hunnicutt letters. One addressed to BJ Hunnicutt and...one...addressed to...Benjamin Pierce.

Oh jeez.

He swallowed and held his letter tighter. He was sure his knuckles would go white. He barely forgets he isn't the only in camp. When the door swings open and BJ comes in with a blue red, humming, his heart nearly stops. He's never moved so fast, grabbing Dad's letter and slipping it over his...other letter. His hand reached BJ's letter out, it took all of his strength to not let his hand shake. 

"Kling...Klinger dropped off, uh, some mail." He smiled. It was a small smile.

BJ, on the other hand, was grinning as he approached Hawkeye. With a still drying hand he takes the letter, fingers brushing Hawkeye's. The touch burns. Hawkeye has to immediately pull his hand away, to his lap where his own letters were. It feels so wrong somehow, to have this letter and then to hide it from BJ. What if she told BJ that she wrote him to and he didn't say anything? Maybe she didn't like his letter. Maybe his letter was lousy and creepy and she wanted him to never write again.

Oh, this was ridiculous. It was just a letter. It wasn't like Peg Hunnicutt was going to be leaning over his cot in the middle of the night and ring his neck. It was a letter, nothing more. Nothing to worry about. He hadn't even read it yet. 

He watched from his cot as BJ plopped down, legs crossed and still drying. He chewed the inside of his cheek at the sound of paper being opened and had to force himself to look away. By the time BJ has the letter out, Hawkeye was on his feet. He picked up his own robe and hat, letters tucked under his arm. He couldn't move fast enough. His feet felt heavy as he took each step away from his cot. Whether BJ noticed or not, he didn't want to know the answer to that. He didn't want to explain  _any_ of this to anyone, nonetheless to the love of hi--to his best friend.

"I'm gonna go take a shower, alright?" Hawkeye didn't look back at BJ, "Be back soon."

"No rush," BJ called after him, "Remember to scrub behind your ears." Hawkeye could hear the way Beej laughed at his own joke.

Funny. That was _real_ funny, BJ Hunnicutt.

He has to move as fast as he can when he leaves the Swamp, when he leaves BJ alone with another Peg Hunnicutt letter. An elbow here and a " _Excuse me_ " there, he finds a space behind Post-Op. Hawkeye pressed himself up in between two crates, hunched over one Peg Hunnicutt letter. His fingers brush over the ' _Dear Hawkeye'._ It makes his stomach do flops. He's not used to it happening with more than one Hunnicutt. It shouldn't be.

Hawkeye feels the guilt wash over him all over again. This was his best friend's  _wife._ This was BJ Hunnicutt's  _wife._ This was not Peg Pierce, or even anything close to that. He had no right...he never should have written her. Yet here in his hands were her words, her words just for him. For him, Hawkeye Pierce. He forces himself to begin to read her letter once again.

"Dear Hawkeye," he murmurs to himself.

_'Dear Hawkeye,_

_It was a great joy to receive your letter along with BJ's. You're always welcomed to write more if you ever feel the urge to. Your words make each day just that more special. Truly.'_

Special. He made her days special. He chews at his thumb nail, eyeing the words over and over. He hasn't even read the rest of it yet and she has him biting nails. His heart could burst from it. He'd have to put all blame on the Hunnicutts, for being so damn kind and amazing. He doesn't remember how he ended up being sat on the ground between the two crates but he was, sat between two crates and trembling from ears to toes. His robe was placed in a crumpled up mass on his lap.

Hawkeye took a deep breath before he continued to read further. 

' _BJ writes of you often. Sometimes I find myself able to picture you perfectly. As if you were standing right in front of me. The way my husband writes about you though, it makes it seem as if photographs don't do you justice. If the Hawkeye Pierce I imagine is already a sight to behold, I cannot wait to meet him in the flesh. You are a remarkable man, Hawkeye Pierce._ _And with each word in your letter, I can see why BJ likes you. Why I like you.'_

Hawkeye tugged at his shirt collar a few times as he reread the words. His breaths a little deeper now. Why was it so hot now? It was so damn hot. He ran his fingers through his hair, only to find it a sweaty mess. His fingers dragged down his cheek to cup his jaw as he tilted his head, still staring at Peg Hunnicutt's letter.

She liked him. She liked him! How could she like him? They hadn't even met. He doesn't know if he would have felt better if she  _didn't_ like him. If she'd been furious about how he'd be with her BJ. But she wasn't. No, Peg Hunnicutt was anything but. She was accepting. She was so damn open hearted she could rival Father Mulcahy. And then she had to go and flatter him. Peg Hunnicutt and her honeyed words. She says to him, so easily too: ' _You are a remarkable man, Hawkeye Pierce_.' 

He had to pull the letter away from him for a moment. His eyes shut tight, hand leaving his jaw to wipe his face. The sweat in his hair sticky on his cheeks and mouth. Everything tastes so sweet when he swallows. It takes him a good couple of breaths before he can open his eyes to look at the letter again. His hand falls limp and away from his face as he holds the letter with his other hand still.

God...

She really was amazing, huh? Beej wasn't joking. She was one of the best people he knew and he never even met her before. He wasn't sure if he ever would to be honest. What if Peg and BJ wanted to go back to their simple life in San Francisco and forget all about Korea? Hawkeye had no idea if he could return to Maine and  _not_ think of the Hunnicutts. It just wasn't possible for him. It never would be.

They had dug a spot in the ol' Hawkeye brain and laid claim to his a part of his heart. He had reserved a few spots here and there for those he met at the 4077th, those he had let in. Who was he kidding? He could love as much as he could hate. People around here had a way of doing a bit of both with him. Sidney Freedman for example, had snuck in at night and captured his heart on plenty of occasions. The sneaky psychiatrist could be so soothing that before Hawkeye knew it, he'd be face pressed into the crook of the man's neck and hugging him for all that he had. 

BJ always said Peg wore perfume, that it was easy to smell when he hugged her close. He wondered what the perfume smelled like now. Would Peg let him hold her like BJ did? Was she just being nice to her husband's best friend in Korea? It's a lot easier to write to someone, say things, when that person isn't physically there. There he felt guilty again, thinking that way about her and like  _that._ He couldn't help it, that's what he told himself. Everything just felt...it felt too good to be true.

' _BJ says that we will have to visit Maine whenever we get the chance, after the war of course. I've never traveled that far myself so it'll be quite an adventure. You'll have to show me around Crabapple Cove. Do you know if I'll need a coat? I hear it's cold often in Maine, very cold and very wet.'_

BJ talked about visiting his hometown? He never heard him talk about that. It was certainly no San Francisco, much smaller and less...warm he supposed. And she wanted a tour. The very idea of him giving Peg or BJ a personal tour had his toes wiggling. If it were the both of them with him at the same time too? That had a certain sort of heart start to build inside his gut. He had to press his arm against his lap, pressing his thighs together tightly as he curled up in his hidden spot a little bit more. His robe did little to hide his excitement. 

' _Here in San Francisco though, in our little house, I'm making fudge. This is my second attempt at baking today. My hair is covered in flour from earlier still, no matter how much I try to get it out. Don't ask. It was a disaster. Erin found the whole thing absolutely hilarious. I'll have to send pictures later as evidence of my crimes against baking.'_

Hawkeye doesn't know if it's the fact Erin is mentioned, that Erin was mentioned and was happy, or the idea of Peg Hunnicutt covered in flower that has him laughing. But he tossed his head back, letting it flood out of his mouth. It's loud and obnoxious and someone  _has_ to hear him but he doesn't care. It's like the fear has faded momentarily, the guilt has gone back into hiding, and he's grateful for the letter. 

He pressed his palm to his eyes, wiping away the tears as his laughter died down. He lets himself grin again, still clutching the letter and eyes only on Peg's words. He feels warm, not as hot now. It's spread all over him inside and he doesn't think he could ever figure out how to wash it off. Not that he would want to.

' _Oh!_ _The clock dinged. I have to go, Hawk. I'll write more later, alright? Don't forget to write back if you ever want to. Thank you for the letter and give BJ mine and Erin's love._

_Xoxoxo,_

_Peg Hunnicutt'_

Damn it! She was _cute_ too. Hawkeye pressed his cheek into his palm, in an attempt to hide his grin. The warmth spreading there too. He knew, he knew there would be no hiding his joy from BJ. He wondered if she told Beej she was writing him, if she told him he wrote her. Would BJ find that funny? Good? As he continued to grin, he pulled the letter close and placed a gentle kiss to the letter.


End file.
